"makes sense"

The couple Jen saw embracing finally released enough to face each other. The pain on her face was mirrored by the pain on his. He remembered back, to the last time they had made their departure standing here, at the airport, in front of the bookstore.

She had said, “Write. Write your story,” as though he needed to go out and slay his dragon before he could ever claim her as his princess.

He hugged her one last time. In the letting go, he whispered in her ear, “Goodbye, Sweetheart.” With hands gently on her shoulders he looked her deep in the eyes. There was a sad smile on his face. A surrender to the pain he felt.

He turned her around, she thought so they could see each other in the reflection of the bookstore’s glass. She could see him looking at her, that same sad smile on his face, she smiled back. He was looking at her, she noticed, but more than that, he was looking through her, or rather through the glass. As her gaze went with his she saw all the display shelves filled with the same book. She realized it must be the hot new release being promoted when the title of the book penetrated her heart.

“The Pilates Lounge” by Cornu.

The woman’s jaw dropped. She stopped breathing. She stopped seeing even though her eyes were still open. When she refocused, the books were still there but he was gone. Gone.

She cried now. Her knees gave way with her knowing and her crying was unabated. Other travelers came to console her, help her to her feet. She regained her composure, looked up into the peaks of the big top tent she stood under and couldn’t help feeling like a trapeze flyer who had just lost her grip. “Send in the clowns,” she whispered to herself.

She felt like she was in a movie she had seen when the clerk selling her the book asked if she wanted it wrapped. Following along with the line in the movie but her voice straining not to crack, “No, it’s for me.”

As she went to drop the change the clerk gave her into her coat pocket her hand came out with something unexpected. It was an airline ticket.

The Denver International Airport is 52 square miles in the extreme Northeast corner of the city. That means way out in the plains. E470 loops around from Boulder through those plains until you come upon the terminal that was designed to look like the snow capped mountains of the Rockies. It also looks like one giant circus tent.

Tosh and Jennifer were now standing underneath that tent just outside of security having a hard time saying goodbye.

Checked in, ticket and passport in hand, there wasn’t much left to say, except everything and nothing.“Imagine. Who would have ever thought?” Tosh said. She was facing Jennifer holding her hands.

Jen gave a little shake to Tosh’s arms and replied, “I never could have come this far without you.”

“The man in the suit, as you like to call him, knows what he’s doing.” Tosh was trying to assure her friend.

“I know,” Jen nodded, “he certainly has the capability of producing a 24-7 HDTV Channel with nothing but Pilates.”

“And picking you as the director of programming was a perfect choice.” Tosh let go Jen’s hands and held her by the shoulders. “You’re going to do fine.”

“Will you write?”

“Of course, but these days it will probably be in the form of telephone texting. And I won’t survive if I don’t hear your voice in English”

“Teach them to move the way you do and they’ll know it all,” Jen reassured. “You’ll be fluent in French in no time.”

“Can you believe it? Me? In Paris?” Tosh’s eyes danced with excitement. “Jeremy is beside him self with jealousy. Threatening to divorce me, imagine that! I told him he’d be lucky if I don’t divorce him. This separation will be good for us. We’ll see if he can get is head screwed on straight. If not, too bad. You can’t deny a person their right to suffer.”

Jen laughed. She thought about how far her friend had come from being so worried about everything she should do and be, to being who she wanted.

“When Trinket begged me to come stay with them and teach Pilates not only at her studio but at the university, I knew I wanted to go. Had to go.” Tosh rubbed Jen’s arms. “If I hadn’t met you this would never have happened.”

Jen hooked her hands on top of Tosh’s arms. “Not true. I fell in love with the way you moved the first time I saw you. And now I’ve got a friend that has really seen me through.”

Tosh tried to dismiss the praise but Jen wouldn’t have it.

“Really. I was on a mission when I met you, driven and empty. Hurting. You helped me find peace with Ekim,” she paused, “and James.”

Tosh hugged her now. There was nothing to say.

Jen hugged back. They hugged for a long time. They squeezed the air out of each other and intentionally waited for instinctual inspiration to initiate their inhales. As it occurred they giggled at the intimacy of knowing their own bodies so well, at knowing each other so completely.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tosh took hold of her bag, wheeled it through the ski lift-like maze and only had a short wait before presenting papers. She smiled at Jen whose hands were on her hips, fingers running down over the curve of her bottom. Then for Tosh it was shoes off, laptop out, coat in the bin. Walking through the portal of Homeland security.

After she reassembled, she looked for Jen one last time but she had left. Tosh headed towards the escalators that led down to the tram and as she stepped onto it looked up to see Jen standing right there on the other side of the glass. Her descent would take her right underneath and out of sight of Jen.

Their smiles were intense, eyes shimmery. Each of their right hands went to their hearts. Mouths silently synced “I love you.” And then as Jen gave her James Dean hand gesture of little circle down and away, Tosh slid out of sight.

Jennifer stood motionless for a moment, savoring the departure. As she turned to leave she saw a man and a woman embracing where she and Tosh had just done the same. She smiled, felt the peace within her, and headed West, back to Boulder.

“Where have you been?” Her hands were up and open, fingers spread, eyes wide, lips pulled tight across her teeth.

“Honey just needed an attitude adjustment. She’s ready now.”

“But it’s too late!” The alarm on Brenda’s face was more statement than her words.

The hush of the audience was more apparent now. The three of them stood in the center of everyone’s attention.

“Honey’s entry has scratched. Jen, you’re up next, if you don’t begin in the next 60 seconds,” Brenda looked up at the big clock on the wall, “you’ll be scratched as well!”

Honey took a big breath trying to absorb the news. Jen just stared at Brenda.

Brenda moved in between the two and taking them by their arms escorted Honey to her judge’s seat, and pressed Jennifer out onto the stage.

The audience began clapping, encouraging the show to go on. They didn’t know what was happening, they just were ready to see more movement. The man in the suit hadn’t moved and was still taking it all in.

Jen moved to the end of the mat on stage. The jumbotron zeroed in on her face, a face of hard lines and showed a mind racing in thought. She took a position with feet together toes apart, arms by her side and sought to calm her breathing. Her eyes closed, and her breathing continued to expand.

Then her eyes opened, and a smile came to her face. What happened next surprised everyone but Jennifer.

Jen walked away from her position, over to Honey seated in her chair. Honey looked startled, puzzled.Jen reached out her hand to Honey. She took it, and Jen led Honey out onto stage. Brenda rushed up.

“What are you doing?” It was a harsh demanding whisper.

Jen gave her a warm calm smile. “I’m giving my space to Honey. There’s nothing in the rules that say I can’t.”

Brenda’s eyes almost crossed. “That’s true. But, are you sure you want to do that?”

Jen looked at Honey and her smile grew deeper, warmer, calmer. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

“Well, okay. It’s your call.” Brenda moved off stage.

Honey reached to hold one of Jen’s hands. “Really?”

Jen nodded, “Just remember, you have to press the flow to find the fusion.” With that, Jen went back to her seat and sat down.

The crowd broke into a heavy round of applause. They weren’t sure what was going on, but they obviously liked the idea of getting to see Honey’s performance. And the fact that Jen had sacrificed her spot made it all the more special.

Honey didn’t hear the applause. Her mind was already busy pressing her will through her breathing, anticipating what was to come next, sensing what she was feeling now.

She glided from standing into lying like a fairy landing a toe upon a flower’s pedal.

Her 100s took on the sensation of a jet engine coming up to speed. The next exercise, the Roll Up, was the plane taking off. And from there the flow and the momentum to the flow steadily gained altitude.

It wasn’t like she was in a hurry. It was like she was going over a check list for the 10,000th time. Each check vital, each check thorough, each check done completely in the present, only to give away into the flow of the next check. One, two, three, and move on; one, two, three, and move on. Beginning, middle and end. Beginning, middle and end. Discover, seek and express. Discover, seek and express.

People forgot what they were doing. Mesmerized hardly expresses what happened to everyone watching. It was more like they were absorbed into the black hole of Honey’s concentration.

Time flew. She flew. At altitude. Over the arctic. And when she landed the plane that took off horizontal finished Push Ups and became the space shuttle, vertical ready for take off.

As she stepped away the stunned silence of the audience exploded into a thunderous applause. People leaped to their feet shouting, screaming, reaching out through their fingers trying to touch Honey through the air.

It took Honey a few moments to catch up to where she was, so disappeared she had gone into the depths of her own awareness, her own concentration. She seemed caught unaware of being observed, and tossed her blond mane in an embarrassed flick that only deepened the applause.

Honey walked over to Jennifer, held out her hand. Jen took it, rose, and they exchanged a hug. Jen was crying. Honey was crying.

Honey took Jen by the hand and led her out to the mat on the stage. She turned Jen to face the crowd, let go her hand, and gestured the crowd to encourage Jen to do the mat.

The applause shifted to a rhythmic clap. They knew what they wanted and their hands spoke loud and clear. Even the man in the suit way up on top had his hands going.

Jen tried to wave them off. She looked at Brenda for help, but Brenda only surveyed the entire auditorium and shrugged as if to say, “What are you going to do? Say no?”

So Honey went and sat down. Everyone else did as well. You would call it hushed anticipation.

Jen modestly pulled off the cover up she had on, tossed it off stage. She wore black tights and a forest green jog bra. Already barefoot, she moved to the head of the mat instead of the foot, and there collected herself.

Somehow Honey had changed her, brought her peace. She didn’t feel the wanting anymore. She only felt peace, like a pebble sinking into deep blue water, warm and wonderful, embracing. The pebble in her mind’s eye sank deeper and deeper, and Jen dove down with it. Her arms rose just like she was on a diving board. Her heels lifted so she was one taut line from balls of feet to fingertips. Everyone held their breath half expecting her to float up into point on her toes, but instead, her arms came down while she was still up on her toes, and she rolled down towards the floor.

Her palms went flat, her head tucked under, her shoulders touched and from there she rolled onto her back and into her 100s.

A peal of delighted applause filled the room.

There weren’t 100 beats, only 10. Only one breath, and Jennifer moved on. Only one Roll Up, one Roll Over, and so it went, a one of each exercise mat, done within the pressing billows of breath.

It was like seeing Honey’s mat in double time. What Tosh had so much earlier done in the competition in 5 to 8 reps, Honey had refined to 3. Now, here was Jennifer, showing a mastery of flow and execution like Mozart did for Salieri.

The crowd loved it.

When Jen transitioned from Control Balance to standing by going back up the way she had come down to the floor a collective “ouuu” came from the crowd.

Her body doing Push Ups was a smooth arc of tempered steel that circled out her arms, through the floor and up into her legs. Uniform usage, to get uniform development, to survive in a uniform gravity field. The gravity jungle.

Like Honey, Jen too, walked out and away from her performance catching up to the surface after having dove so deeply into the depths of her concentration.

A smile beamed from her face, she waved, first with one hand, and then with both, before she returned to her seat.

Brenda came out on stage, but she had to wait a while for the applause to settle down before she could say anything. As she waited she looked over her shoulder and was surprised to see Honey’s scores appear in her column beside everyone else’s who had performed that day.

The bottom row showed the combined score, and Honey’s edged out the leader by two points. The leader had been Tosh, the bar had been set high from the very beginning, and no one else had topped it till Honey. Tosh clapped whole heartedly. Tears were running down her face.

Honey couldn’t believe it and didn’t know if it would count. But to her, it didn’t matter. She had overcome her fear. Chosen hope. And that was her personal victory.

Just as the clapping was losing it momentum more scores appeared in Jennifer’s column, and her total topped Honey’s by 1 point.

Honey burst out laughing. Jen’s mouth was open without her realizing it. And Tosh tried to wipe away a constant stream of joyous tears.

Brenda clapped. Three young girls came out bearing the awards to be handed out. They lined up a little behind and to the side of Brenda.

The crowd noise only subsided because they wanted to hear what she had to say and acknowledge the awards to be given.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Pilates Trials are now completed.” Applause followed.

“To present the awards I would like to introduce our one and only sponsor, the dot.com king of the internet, Mr. Mike Cubin!”

Now it was Jen who was surprised. It was the man in the suit who had spoken to her at James’ funeral. He moved smoothly, shyly, modestly. When he took the microphone from Brenda he thanked her for putting on such a spectacular Trials, and all those who helped.

“Furthermore, I’d like to remember James Leigh. He was, and still is a pivotal member of our community.”

Passing the microphone back to Brenda, Mike stood by as Brenda announced the awards.

Tosh came up, Mike placed the ribbon around her neck, gave her a bouquet of flowers, and shook her hand. Tosh rose up into better posture when she felt the weight of her medal pressing against her sternum.

Honey rode a cloud up to receive her medal. Mike placed it around her neck. Went cheek to cheek for a perfunctory kiss. Handed her a bouquet and shook her hand.

Honey turned, and held up the bouquet. Everyone felt they had somehow won with her and applauded.The applause rallied before Jen’s name was even spoken. She came to the stadium like a monk head down, on her way to the temple. Her eyes stayed on the floor as she bent at the waist to let the man in the suit put the ribbon around her neck. As she straightened up there where those same deep blue penetrating eyes looking into hers. They weren’t shining, and they weren’t as sad as the last time she had looked into them. Something deeper now. Something more personal just between them.

He gave her a bouquet, shook her hand, went cheek to cheek with the kiss, and while still holding her hand said, “Congratulations. He would have been very proud.”

The bond between them tightened, their grip only confirming the fact. As he let go, he put his hand to her arm and leaned in to say, “I’d like to discuss something with you later.” He drew back, smiled, and joined the applause of her effort.

Jennifer turned, waved the bouquet above her head and brushed away a tear with her other hand. She felt joy and at peace.

Honey sat very still during the mat performance that came right before her’s. Jen kept an eye on her but wasn’t sure how she was feeling.

The moment the mat ended, and she recorded her score, Honey took off for the toilet.

Time rolled by. Jen sat quietly thinking that soon it would be her turn. She was flooded with memories the led up to her being here. That first workshop when she heard Ekim speak. That shack on the beach. The sunrise surfing that washed the world clean each day.

She remembered the fear of forty days and forty nights they searched for Ekim, before they called the search off. She cold feel the sand strain her efforts to march away from news that they would look no more.

She remembered feeling the same way when she marched away from James’ grave. Empty. Hollow. Only going on to survive, the naked wanting to survive. And somehow that wanting transformed into wanting to win the Trials. She wanted Ekim back. She wanted that life back. She wanted being loved that way back again.

“And in that wanting she came to Boulder to win the Trials. Her wanting drove her to James, and her wanting of James diminished her wanting of Ekim, until suddenly she didn’t have either, and once again she was just left with naked wanting, wanting to survive. “Is there anything else? Is there anything more?” She asked herself.

Brenda was on stage, looking for Honey, who was nowhere in sight. It was time for her to start, and Brenda looked alarmed.

Jen stood and surveyed the crowd. A figure caught her eye, up above and off to the left. The fit of the suit gave him away. It was that same man who was at James’ funeral.

He stood there, weight even on both legs, arms by his sides, one hand clasping the other in front of him.

He wasn’t looking at Jen, just out into space, observing the affair.

Jen drew her attention back to looking for Honey. She moved along the aisle and headed for the ladies's room.

Honey wasn’t there, and when Jen went a little further down the hallway she passed a door where she thought she heard something. A muffled sound. An animal sound.

The sign on the door said UTILITY CLOSET, a fancy name for janitor’s room. When Jennifer opened the door at first all she saw were brooms and mops held clipped to the wall. When she looked down there was the expected yellow mop bucket, but next to the bucket was a mop of yellow hair that belonged to Honey.

She was curled up into a ball, hugging her knees, forehead pressed to the same. She was half crying and half in a delirious moan.

Jen sat down beside her, wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

Honey moaned louder having been discovered.

“Honey, Honey, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you hurt?” Jen used her other hand’s fingers to try and smooth away Honey’s matted hair from the side of her face.

Honey’s moan released into a sob and then a big inhale. She looked up into Jen’s face. “I’m afraid!” Her head returned to her knees and she resumed sobbing.

“Oh, sweetheart, what are you afraid of?” Jen soothed her shoulders with her palm.

“I don’t know. I’m just afraid.” Mumbled through tears and a runny nose.

Jen reached to a roll of paper meant for the dispenser in the bathroom and tore off a sheet. “Here, blow your nose.” Honey did so but stayed hunched over and wouldn’t look at Jen.

Jen said, “You know what Ekim taught me about fear?” She continued to stroke her friends shoulders.Honey gave a loud honk blowing her nose, and then shook her head from side to side.

“Ekim said that fear is one side of a coin. The coin is your attitude towards the future.” Honey listened as she folded the towel repositioned it and blew her nose again.

“And choosing your attitude towards the future is the one thing a human being cannot escape from making. Even making no choice of attitude is choosing your attitude.” Jen paused, then went on. “Ekim said he got this important truth from a book he read when he was a boy given to him by his teachers. The book was titled Man’s Search for Meaning, and was written by Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor. He wrote that when desperate times are pressed upon you, the one freedom you have, perhaps the only freedom you have is your choice of attitude.”

Just because Honey was crying and afraid didn’t mean that her brain had shut down. With lightening bolt insight she looked into Jen’s eyes and asked the question, “what’s the other side of the coin.”Jen smiled, sharply inhaled to stifle tears of her own and said, “hope.”

They looked at each other, and Jen started nodding to the internal conversation Honey was having with herself. “Hope. You’ve got to choose your attitude. It’s either negative or positive. A negative attitude is fear. It’s so easy to choose fear. That’s why everyone sells through fear. But fear gets you nowhere. Fear is a self-fulfilling prophecy. So, Ekim used to say, when you experience fear, it’s a negative attitude towards the future, and the only alternative to a negative attitude is a positive one, hope. It’s a choice, your choice, what you choose. And once you recognize fear for what it is, choosing hope becomes much easier.

“Just choose. That’s all there is to it?” Honey said in disbelief, like getting quoted a price you think is too low.

“Uh huh, that’s all.” Jen used both her hands to gather the substantial mop of Honey’s golden locks into a mane she then held with one hand. “I wish it were more complicated than that but that’s all there is to it. You either choose hope or you’re stuck in fear. Either way, it’s your choice.”

Honey inhaled into a more upright position. She looked out seeing the opportunity to escape her fear. Jen had not only given her hope, but shown her that hope was a choice she could make on her own. A smile came to her face and a light came to her eyes.

“You know what really helps me choose my way out of fear and into hope?” Jen teased the question.Honey shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Applying my will doing Pilates.” Jen’s head tilted towards Honey ever so slightly, and her face tightened to make the point.

Honey broke into a full smile now. Jen took it as a sign it was time to stand up and helped Honey to her feet. She looked around at the close quarters they were standing in. “Only I like more space than this, and the more people observing the better. It helps me focus.”

“Do you want me to get you something?” Jen was concerned. Honey seemed to be experiencing something more than a case of the nerves. “How about some 7-up? That will settle your stomach. Or an Alka Seltzer?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” She leaned back in her chair, drew a deep breath in through her nose. “I just need some air. And maybe stretch my legs.”

“Step outside. Take a breather. We not scheduled to start for another 15 minutes.”

Honey stood, smiled at Jen then turned, worked her way down the aisle, up the stairs towards the entrance.

In the meantime, Tosh came over sat in Honey’s seat and gave Jen an appraising look. “How you feeling? Are you ready?”

Jen rolled her head, then nodded. “Better than Honey, she’s a bundle of nerves.”

“I saw her go out. I hope she’ll be okay.” Tosh looked in the direction that Honey had taken. “I’m more concerned about you. You’ve come so far, done so much. I know how badly you want this.”

“Yes, I have, and I do,” Jen said as she stared out onto the empty stage. “But you know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Bout what?”

“About why I want to win the Trials so much. I mean you, and everybody are so good, and just to be in your company, in the celebration of doing Pilates, is such a thrill. I find myself asking, “Where does the wanting come from? Why do I want it so much?”

“You taught me wanting comes from within, not like shoulds that are externally imposed upon you.” Tosh was sharing feelings that went deep and stirred her passion.

“Yes, wanting comes from within, but where within, and more importantly, why do they come?” Jen glanced at Tosh to see if she was making any sense and unsure if she was being too self revealing.

When Tosh didn’t answer, more taking in what Jen had said and mulling it around in her mind, Jen continued her reflection aloud. “When I lost Ekim I wanted him back. I had come to expect him in my life, we breathed the same air, surfed the same waves, watched the same sunsets. When he never returned from that sail, lost at sea wasn’t enough. I wanted him back. I wanted him back badly.”

Jen’s eyes glistened. Tosh rubbed her arm with the back of her fingers.

“I think my wanting him back changed into wanting to win the Trials. If I win these Trials I will have him back insofar as I will embody his passion for Pilates. I’ll have him back inside me. Does that make any sense?”

“I guess. Does it make sense to you?”

“I didn’t see things as clearly until after James died,” Jen put her heart on her face for Tosh to take in. “until after my glider ride.”

Tosh smiled the embarrassed grin of the giver of a gift that proved to be more precious than ever anticipated. She teared a little, too, but kept listening to Jen without looking away.

“The Hawk said something profound. It hit me right between the eyes. He said, ‘Life is about survival. And you survive because you want to.’” Jen was nodding to herself now, feeling the truth of his words.

“I want to survive. I want to win the Trials. For Ekim. For me. For us. The us that was and will never be.”

After a big breath and trying to remove herself from the depth of her reflections Jen finished by saying, “And somewhere in there maybe I’ll find peace.”

“You will. I know you will. And win or lose, Ekim and James will always be with you, maybe not in the way you want, but maybe enough to help you find the peace you’re looking for.” Tosh turned to face the stage, feeling she had brought the conversation to an optimistic end. It was time to look forward, embrace the moment, be present.

She looked over her shoulder and spied Honey making her way down the aisle. “Here comes Honey. She doesn’t look too good.”

“She says she’s okay. Just nerves. After raking through all my drama, I’m sure she has more than enough of her own.”

“One more, and then it’s her turn. Believe me, once you’re out there, you forget everything else. That’s the best part of doing Pilates, you get to disappear into the complete coordination of body, mind and spirit. No baggage, just presence.”

Tosh stood and moved towards her assigned judges chair at the opposite end of Jen’s. She turned slightly and gave Jen a thumbs up. Jen mirrored the gesture and then stood to stretch a little before the Trials resumed.

When Tosh finished her mat her face was calm, her cheeks were rosy and everybody was clapping. She returned to her water bottle, drained it, looked up at the scores, and waved again, to the adulation of the crowd.

Her mat had been completely classical, 5 to 8 reps each exercise and had taken almost all of the 45 minutes allotted for each performance.

Her scores were high, even though she was first up. She had set the standard for the rest of the field to be judged. It would be interesting to see how the others compared.

Quickly, she moved behind the scenes to the locker room, showered and slipped into a pair of baby blue shimmery elastic dancer slacks and a white top.

When she came back out to take her judges seat, she felt refreshed and relieved to have her performance over. Now she could sit back and enjoy the movement of others, and see how she fared when held up against them.

The same pattern of performance, short break followed by another performance happened two more times and then there was a 30 minute break after the third.

Tosh didn’t know the woman who followed her mat. She had seen her at the preliminaries but not been able to observe her move. Introduced as Tammy Fay, she moved well enough but ended each exercise like a train making a stop, pausing, and then picking up steam to go on.

Tammy Fay’s scores came in lower than Tosh’s but still respectable. She waved, disappeared for her shower, and when she came back and slid into her judges seat, a few people clapped again.

Paul went next. He wore a one piece unitard. Mauve. He was in his own element, on stage, under the lights, dancing for the masses. Only this dance was highly choreographed, and he set out to do it with a keen focus.

His movements were sharp and quick. A straight mind to muscle delivery. There was something about the way a man performed the Pilates mat that led an observer to wonder about the inherent differences between the sexes.

He finished on time, barely. And his reception of applause had his self reflection in the front row clapping the loudest and longest.

He waited till his scores posted, pleased that he did better than Tammy Fay, hid his disappointment at not surpassing Tosh behind a plastic smile as he took one more deep bow before he tip toe skipped off the stage.

Like the intermission at a concert, some people rose and headed for refreshments or relief, others stayed seated and gossiped among themselves.

Jen gave Tosh an enthusiastic hug. “You did great! I’m so proud of you.”

Tosh blushed and beamed all at the same time. “I wasn’t about to miss my opportunity, even if he didn’t like it.”

“You did what you wanted, didn’t you?” Jen looked inquiringly into Tosh’s face.

Tosh pressed her lips together and nodded her head up and down.

“How did it feel?”

“Great, a lot better than worrying if I were doing what I should be doing.” Tosh took a deep breath and let it go easily.

Jen looked over Tosh’s shoulder. “Seems Jeremy has found some friends.”

Tosh was surprised to see him still here, and her brow knitted at the sight of Dean Withers and his wife. “Why were they here? And who is the couple with them?” She wondered.

Madeline spoke first, while reaching out to shake Tosh’s hand. “You were super! I’m so jealous of your strength and grace. You never told us you were so good at this.”

Tosh glanced at Jeremy who stood back and said nothing.

Madeline reached an arm around Trinket to bring her closer. Trinket eyes were big, and in awe, and you could see she was thrilled to be getting introduced. “This is Trinket, Dr. Trudeau’s wife, and a big fan of Pilates.”

“A big fan of yours! Wow! Formidab! C’est magnifique!” Trinket held Tosh’s hand in both of hers and had a hard time letting go.

“It’s true,” Dr. Trudeau echoed as he gave Tosh a more reserved hand shake. “Even for someone uninitiated it was easy to see your movement has mastery.”

Tosh showed the confusion she felt. “Jeremy said we were supposed to get together. I’m so sorry I was committed here.”

“Think nothing of it,” Trinket waved her hand. “Once I heard what was going I had to come see.”

Tosh reached back and all but dragged Jennifer into the conversation. “This is my good friend and work out partner Jennifer Desiree.”

Jennifer wore her work out clothes under a oversized loose fitting shirt. Her hair was up in a ballerina’s bun, feet in shower sandals.

“Ah, you are French!” Trinket stated as a question.

“Qui, mais pas beaucoup.” Jen surprised everyone with the ease in her French response.

Before Trinket could launch into more French and leave everyone else out of the conversation, her husband gently reached under her arm and said, “Venez, mon petite bijou. Speak English and say your farewells. We have to be getting back.” He looked at Jen, “Will you be performing as well?”

Jen smiled and nodded, “Yes, but I’m not till last.”

“Oh, c’est dommage,” Trinket lamented.

Dean Withers looked with admiration at Tosh. “It was great to see you move so beautifully. Jeremy can be very proud of you.”

“She only does it as a hobby, to have something to do while I’m teaching,” Jeremy said dismissively.

The slight made everyone uncomfortable. It was obvious for anyone who watched her move that it was more than a hobby that stood in the shadow of his ego.

Like a fan being torn from her idol, Trinket’s face exaggerated her pout. “I’m so glad we got to meet and see you move. I hope we see more of you!”

“Me too. I’m sorry I can’t join you for your excursion into the mountains. They’re beautiful, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

A chime sounded, indicating the impending resumption of the Trials. Hands shook all the way around. Jeremy just graced Tosh with a brief nod, and they were off.

“Whew,” Tosh looked at Jen, “that was unexpected.”

“Yea, but you’ve got a new fan, and both she and her husband seemed very nice.” Jen gave her friend a little nudge with her elbow. “Let’s go sit down.”

The day had arrived. The Pilates Trials. Jen stood in the back of the University of Pilates auditorium. It was much like a Vegas theater, the kind that hosts America’s Got Talent. Not that big but similar in scope, nature, and feel.

There was a wide stage. Above the stage, woven into the cyclotron were four jumbotron video screens, one big one in the middle, and two on each side.

The incline was steep, like the latest movie theatres, and the seats were high-backed, and rocked.Many of the spectators were already in place, and there was a hum of conversation the fed the air of excitement.

In a semi-circle close to the stage were nine super-seats meant for the judges. Each judge competed. Each judge evaluated the other contestants. And their evaluations were simulcast on a screen so that everyone in the audience could see how the judges scored each other. It was the design of Ekim to make the judging transparent and accountable. It had its flaws, but it also had its advantages. And it made the judges accountable to the other observers, the audience. Evidently, Ekim thought that was important.

If Pilates is the complete coordination of body, mind and spirit, and spirit is the observer participating in the performance, then by connecting the observation of the broader audience to evaluation by the judges, the scoring was more likely to truly reflect the quality of the effort.

Brenda walked out onto the stage holding a microphone. She wore an black elegant dress, gold slippers and a matching gold band in her hair. “Welcome everyone, to the Pilates Trials.”

A wave of applause swept through the auditorium. The jumbotrons were working and the center screen showed a close-up of Brenda’s face. Her smile was warm and her eyes reached through the spotlights to those in the back row.

“Today we get to watch nine performances of the Pilates Matwork. The participants judge each other. The scores will be projected on the screen.” Brenda glanced up and over her shoulder gesturing to one of the screens above.

“Each contestant has a start time and an end time in which they must complete their performance. Because of the length of each performance there will be a brief intermission after the 3rd and 6th performances.”

“Please put your cell phones on silent, and keep your conversations to a minimum and toned down.” A scattering of cell phones lit up as people complied with her request.

“And now, sit back, enjoy the show.” Big smile. “We’ll be getting started with our first contestant in just a moment.

The only problem was that the first contestant was Macintosh Macbride, and she was currently being held up by her husband.

“Tosh, you don’t understand.” Jeremy was pleading with her. They were standing off to the side of the entrance. Some people were still filing in to find their seats. Just as Tosh was ready to head to the stage and begin, Jeremy showed up unexpectedly and now had her by the elbow.

“I don’t care who’s in town, or what it might mean for your career,” she said and she wrenched her arm out of his grasp.

“Maybe you should.” Jeremy glared at her. “I’m your husband. What you do as a hobby shouldn’t interfere with our opportunities.”

“You mean your opportunities, don’t you?” Tosh challenged.

“Look, we have the opportunity to spend the afternoon in the mountains with the Dean and his wife, and the president of the French university I’ve been trying to get a position in for years.” Jeremy was terse, and standing very close. He didn’t like having to explain himself, especially to her. “Won’t you recognize priorities and give this up for me, for us?”

Tosh was wringing her fingers. “I can’t. I’m due to go on. If I lose my time slot I lose my place. This is important to me.”

“But our future is important to both of us. You should do this, for me, for yourself, for us,” Jeremy was trying to assert his authority and use guilt to get his way. “How selfish, to be thinking only of yourself.”Tosh flared. “Oh bite me!” Her eyes burning into his. “Or should I say, Chu Me?”

Cold anger swept over Jeremy’s face. He wasn’t used to this kind of challenge from Tosh and wished he weren’t in public so he could deal with her more directly.

Jen hadn’t seen Tosh since her glider ride. They had talked over the phone, but not gotten together since then. Now, she was standing at a distance watching her friend obviously upset and delayed by her husband. She could also see Brenda looking out into the crowd for Tosh because she was due to begin, and the time frames were fixed.

Jen walked up to the feuding couple. She gave a cool nod to Jeremy, and pulled something out of her pocket to hand to Tosh. “Just in case you’re not as tough as you want to be.”

It was the plastic baggy Tosh had given to her. “You’re up. Don’t lose your slot. I’ve got to go get seated.” She leaned in, lifted up on her toes, and kissed Tosh’s cheek. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Jen walked away wondering how she’d meant that. Knock the audience dead is how it was meant, but knock him dead was just as appropriate.

Tosh watched Jen walk away. “That lady taught me that doing what you want for somebody else shows you that you must do the same for yourself. I want to live up to my god given talents, not what you or my father expect from me.”

Jeremy was almost speechless. He didn’t know where this rebellious streak was coming from and he didn’t like it. “You should reconsider, you really should.”

“I want more than living up to other people’s shoulds, especially yours. I want more than living up to other people’s expectations of me just to gain their approval. I want to approve of myself. That’s why I’m going now to do what I set out to do.”

“If you do this, you’re on your own.” His face was blank, his words an ultimatum.

“I know what I want, and I’m going for it, right now.” Tosh squeezed the baggy in her hand and gave Jeremy one last look in the eye. Then she walked away.

She walked down the aisle, picked up a water bottle beside the stage, took a sip as she caught Jen’s eye. As she screwed the top back on the bottle she smiled, held up the baggy, gave her a half wink, and then set the bottle down on the baggy before she stood tall and walked out to the single mat that was center stage.

As Tosh stood at the end of her mat, drawing together her calm and her focus, she heard her breath amplified out into the audience by the shotgun microphones pointed at her from above. The sound deepened her listening until that was all she heard. No extraneous thinking. No recent past being dragged along like a pile of sticks on your back. Just breath. Just now. Just being.

Her knees bent, she laid down, and began doing the first Pilates exercise - the 100s.

The sound of her breath was like a billows, a little quiver at first, but through her application of will it grew stronger, deeper, and with her breath, everyone seemed to syncopate with her.

Except for Jeremy. He turned to leave and almost ran over Madeline. She was with her husband, Dean Withers and another couple. Confused, Jeremy tried to catch up to who he was seeing from one environment, his campus crowd, to where he was, his wife’s Pilates hobby world.

“Dean Withers, Madeline, how good to see you.” He shook their hands. “How did you know to find me here?”

“Well, actually we weren’t looking for you.” The Dean explained. “Let me introduce you.” Turning to his guests, “Dr. Trudeau, Trinket, may I introduce Jeremy Macbride, a professor in our department spending the summer with us.”

Dr. Trudeau was the president of the French university where Jeremy hoped to teach. He was slight, short, and wore dark suit, with a white shirt and tie. He could have been a banker just as easily as an academic.

His wife, taller than her husband, came across as very French, whatever that meant. Her dress was sleeveless, gathered front and back, a fabric and a cut you didn’t get in the States. A gold bangle and matching earrings dripped from her wrist and ears. A purse delicately slung over one shoulder was sumptuous chocolate brown leather.

The Doctor’s handshake was effeminate from a small hand. Her’s was firm and long fingers and French cut nails.

“When the Dean mentioned that your wife was into Pilates and participating in the Trials, Trinket insisted we come and watch.”

Jeremy felt the enthusiasm in Trinket’s handshake and had to make a point of letting go. “She’s on stage now.”

Trinket looked to the focus of the spotlights. “Then we must get seated. I would hate to miss her performance.”

Trinket led the way, husband, Dean, wife, in tow, and Jeremy fumed at the mix of good fortune and bitter resentment.

Jennifer was sun bathing on the back porch. The Beach Boys were crooning about the little surfer girl when the door bell rang. She never moved to go see who it was.

A few moments later her phone rang. She never looked to see who was calling.

After a minute or two Tosh appeared from around the corner. She had on hiking boots, jeans, and a grey zip up the front hooded sweat shirt. She stood next to Jen with her hands on her hips and an expressionless face, most of it hidden behind those big black framed sun glasses of hers.

“Where have you been?” Tosh demanded. “What about the Trials?”

Except for the twitch from one of Jen’s feet to shoo off a fly Tosh might have believed that Jen was asleep.

“You just going to quit?!” There was a hard accusatory edge to Tosh’s voice. Jen remained motionless, absorbing the sun, her RayBans hiding her eyes.

Tosh shifted position to stand more over Jen, looking down on her, blocking her sun. “What about all that baloney you were telling me about wants?” Tosh was mad. “What about reaching for what you want and going after it? About not letting anything or anybody get in your way? Huh?” With that last “Huh” Tosh nudged the lounge trying to provoke a response.

Jen rose to her elbows, looking out past her toes. Most of her hair streamed down and stayed on the cushion behind her. Still she said nothing.

Tosh sat down on the edge of the chaise and faced her friend. “Well, I’ve got something I want to do. And I want you to come with me.” Her mouth was set, determination oozed.

Jen reached up with one hand and took off her RayBans, her dark green ocean eyes tried to see beyond the black pools of Tosh’s glasses.

Tosh stood, stayed close. “Get dressed. I want you to come with me.”

Jen looked back out into the trees. Her face made an indignant gesture as she mouthed Tosh’s words without giving them sound, “I want.”

With a sigh she sat up, forcing Tosh to give some ground. Jen pulled her hair into a tail, inserted a band to hold it in place and stood to face her friend.

Tosh only folded her arms to accentuate her stand.

Jen took in a deep breath, let it out slowly and surrendered. She went inside to get changed.

Tosh was sitting in her car, tapping the steering wheel, feeling like a woman to Shania Twain’s beat when Jen emerged from the front door. She too, was in jeans, her desert boots, jeans jacket, and her hair pulled through that black cap of her’s with the oversized bill. RayBans in place, but no smile on her face.

“Good,” Tosh thought. “At least she’s dressed for the occasion.”

Jen got in, fastened her seat belt. When she returned Tosh’s look, both in their shades, Jen looked out over the hood of the car, and with both hands threw her fingers out her fists to indicate a stubborn, “Let’s go.”

Tosh shifted into gear and they were off.

They headed down the hill East on Baseline. At 28th they took a left to go North. After going down most of the main drag through town Tosh took a right on Iris. A little more than a mile later another right on Independence.

Jen thought they were going hiking, or somewhere into the mountains. Instead, they were on the Northeast corner of town, an area she wasn’t familiar with.

They were skirting around the far side of the Boulder Airport. Jen could see the hangars and planes on the South side across the runways. They were on a small frontage road bordered by trees and farmhouses running down the left, runways on the right.

Tosh slowed, and turned onto a dirt road access that went between the barbed wire fence onto what appeared to be airport property. She followed along the road to a small parking lot next to a couple of those all aluminum trailers called Airstreams. Beyond the parking lot were a few planes with long graceful wings scattered on the ground and appeared to be lying on their bellies grazing on the grass.

They had no propellers.

The astonishment showed on Jen’s face as she turned to look at Tosh.

Tosh pulled in beside the only other car in the dirt lot, shifted into park, and looked back.

“You’re crazy.”

Tosh smiled. Turned off the car and smiled back. “I know what I want” and got out of the car. Jen followed.

Tosh led the way to the nearest trailer. It’s door was open, the overhead awning pulled out, and a man was rocking in one of those spring steel garden chairs.

Open for business, he seemed relaxed, taking in a beautiful sunny day, and all was right with the world. “Good morning, ladies.” He didn’t rise, but waited to see what their business was before he rose to break his reverie.

“My name is Macintosh McBride, are you Henry?”

Nodding in sync with the rocking of the chair the man in aviator glasses and ball cap that said NAVY on the front responded, “That’s me.” He stood, held out his right hand to shake, “Henry Harrison at your service.”

As they shook hands, Henry took off his sunglasses and added, “But you can call me Hawk. Everyone else does.”

“Great. It’s nice to meet you. We spoke on the phone and have an appointment with you.” Tosh turned towards Jen. “This is Jennifer.”

Hawk shook hands giving her an appraising look. It wasn’t one of those from head to toe checking a woman out kind of look. It was in his eyes gauging her face, and the shake of his hand was more than a mild howdie do. He tightened his grip looking for a reaction. Jen gave him one. Nothing defensive, just meeting him with equal tension and willing to hold on.

The Hawk smiled as he release his grip, pleased in some way. Jen had the faint impression she had passed some kind of test.

“It’s a good day for flying. Hot yesterday. There will be a lot of lift today.” Hawk looked skyward and to the West. “We provide parachutes, as required by FAA regulations for all aerobatics flights. If you're in good health and have no fear, you'll love it!”

Jen’s mouth opened. The Hawk’s comments seemed to be directed at her. As she went to speak and hold out a hand towards Tosh to clear up the misunderstanding Tosh slipped a large zip lock bag into her hand.

With a tight smile and dead serious she took off her sunglasses, leaned in closer, hooked up eye to eye. “And this is if you’re not as tough as you think,” she said with a wink.

Jen looked down at the bag in her hand, up into Tosh’s face, over to Hawk’s, back to Tosh’s.

“This is what I want. I want you to go flying. I want you to go flying with that bird you saw the last time we were with James.”

The Hawk heard this, assumed that had settled things. “Today we’ll be flying a Schweizer 2-33, a sweet bird, great for performing aerobatics.”

The Hawk had headed off to the flock of gliders resting lazily in the grass. Jen just stood there, frozen in space, baggie in hand, looking at Tosh.

“It’s what I want.” Tosh reached out, gently turned Jen towards the Hawk and gave a slight push. “Give me what I want.”

The Hawk was droning on oblivious to the undertows in play. Or maybe he was choosing to ignore them. In any event, Jen stumbled after, stuffing the baggie into a side pocket of her jacket. “These long strips along the back edge of the wing are called spoilers. They slow us down when we land and help us maneuver in the air. That little string there on top of the wing is a yawl string to tell you if we are flying straight.”

Jennifer reached out with both hands, fingers making contact, as though she was introducing herself. Hawk noticed, understood, and continued on. “After we get the bonnet off I’ll show you around.”

He carefully folded off the cover to the canopy and tossed it to the side into the grass. He stood at the nose, reached down and grabbed a painter to pull the glider out away from the others, onto a grassy field that looked more like a football field than a runway. He swiveled the plane 90 degrees to face East.

He did his checklist, detached the painter, tossed it aside as he walked around the wing closest to Jen and indicated for her to come closer.

He tilted open the glass bubble reached into the front seat and drew out a parachute. It was the kind you sit on. He held it open for Jen to slip on like it was an evening wrap and they were on their way out for a night on the town. Once arms were in he turned her to face him and buckled her in. His eyes watched everything his hands were doing to confirm he had accomplished each task at hand. Finally, he grabbed her harness at her shoulders, gave it a solid shake, and grunted in satisfaction.

As the Hawk pulled his parachute from the back seat and started strapping it on Jen looked inside.

Jen looked up and over to Tosh. Her arms were crossed, feet in a wide stance, on guard. Jen found herself nodding to herself, acknowledging a feeling that came from her gut. “Yes, yes I do.”

From that moment on, she never looked back, and was completely absorbed in her adventure.

Hawk thumbed the radio attached to his harness. “Tango Seven, ready in 10”

“Afirm.” Came back.

Hawk helped Jen get in. Got in behind her and lowered the hatch.

From somewhere Jen heard an engine roar and from behind her a plane motored past in front of them.

It was pulling a line. Out from the Airstream trailer came a woman in her forties and a teen aged girl, Hawk's wife and daughter, Jen guessed. The woman ran past Tosh, grabbed the line and attached it underneath the nose of the glider. The young girl ran to the far wing tip, and the woman went to the other.

The tow plane’s engine roared, the wing walkers kept the glider from hitting or dragging a wing tip on the ground allowing Hawk to maintain a straight path using the rudders. They ran along until the airspeed was sufficient enough for Hawk to keep the wings level on his own using the ailerons.

Jen and Tosh waved as the bird floated into the air and the world became new.

The tow plane was a little higher. It had struts connecting the fuselage to points out at a distance on the wings. “Must be for more stability,” Jen thought.

The wind swooshed by, but it was relatively quiet, and Jen could easily hear the Hawk explain how to use the vent at the side of her head that was built into the canopy. She adjusted it to suit her and felt good to exercise control over some aspect of her experience.

Now Jen cast her attention out and down to see Boulder in a whole new perspective. They were being towed South along the Eastern edge of town, and then when they turned again to head West Jen was able to pick out a special spot.

Greenwood Cemetery lay off to her right and ahead of her. As they drew nearer she was surprised to see that same bird circling overhead, only now she was above the bird and gaining altitude.

Before she could fall into reflection Hawk flew in a "box", literally a square shape, around the wake of the tow plane, then directly through the wake in a vertical motion to ensure that everything felt normal and the controls were all responding ok before disengaging from the tow rope. It's usually the sign to the pilot of the tow plane to look for the 'all ok' sign and to expect release of the rope, or if there is no release forthcoming then a signal to tow the glider back to the field.

There was a loud click and the tow rope released.

“Right hand on the stick.” Hawk instructed. “Match the pressure I’m placing on the pedals.”

Jen fingers laced around the stick. Her feet felt the pressure Hawk was using to push them. Suddenly Jen flashed back upon that initial handshake with Hawk and she understood what he had been looking for.

“Nature provides the atmospheric engine, gives us the lift to go higher. We just have to turn in a tight enough circle to stay inside the column of air on its way up.”

Jen’s grip got more firm, her feet seeking to hold the pedals in place. The Hawk felt this and eased himself out of the tension. Jen was flying before she knew it.

“Tighter. More hand. More foot.”

And Jen asserted herself. Responded to the feeling in her ass. That was the only way to put it. She was flying by the seat of her pants and falling in love with it.

“Good. What’s your altitude?”

Flying by the seat of your pants is one thing. Having to look inside the cockpit and read instruments takes it up a level. “Seven hundred feet?”

“Try seven thousand. Much higher and we’d need oxygen. Break out and head West.”

“West?”

“Towards the mountains.”

Jen wasn’t sure what “Break out” meant, but she shifted weight into her pedals, and moved the stick out of the direction of the turn they were in. The glider bumped and wobbled and Jen could feel some guiding influence coming from behind her but not overruling her. As they leveled out and the Rocky Mountains spread out beneath her, she looked closer to see what she could recognize.

She could pick out the lake by Nederland. Off to the North she could see Longs Peak. She knew it was over 14,000 feet tall, but from up here it looked pretty small.

“Press the nose down a little, gain a little speed. Good. Now pretend like you’re on a snow board and sliding down the tube from one side to the other.”

Jen was having fun, she felt like she was in control. She liked the connection between the pedals under her feet and the pressure on the stick in her right hand.

“Okay. Nose over a little more. Faster. Now rock all the way over.”

Jen did as instructed, and went upside down like she was swirling down a drain. “Whoo Hoo!”

“Congratulations, little one, you just completed your first barrel role.” There was pride in his voice, with a tinge of astonishment.

It felt like they hit a bump in the road. The controls moved beneath Jen and the glider made a tight turn, as if to go back and see what they hit.

This time the Hawk put the glider in a turn going the other way, and once established released to Jen’s control. “This is called catching a ride.” Jen watched the altimeter needle circle around and the ground grow smaller beneath them.

“Level off at 8,000. Head East.”

Jen followed instructions. Pleased with herself. Absorbed in the moment.

“Okay, Jennifer.” The tone in Hawk’s voice sharpened Jen’s attention. Imagine it’s wartime. And “Tallyho!” a fighter has come out of the sun and is bearing down on your tail. The way she flies you know you won’t shake this gal off.”

“Gal?”

“Some of the fiercest fighter pilots in the sky these days are women,” Hawk informed her. “You decide to dive and plan on looping up and around behind her coming to guns.”

“Hawk, I don’t know. Do you think I’m ready for this?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. Do you think you are ready for this?” The question hung in the cockpit. “You’re in control unless I override you.”

Jen nodded, opened her grip on the stick, re-wrapped her fingers.

“Here she comes. Push the nose over, more, faster!”

The ground started rushing up into Jen’s focused eyes.

“She’s on you! Guns are blazing. More speed! NOW! Pull back, harder, into your gut. Use both hands.”The nose lifted above the horizon. Jen’s seat sank into the cushion.

“Keep pulling! Push your head into the cushion. Look up over your head. Find your target.” Hawk’s voice was cool, clipped, and commanding.

Jen didn’t even notice she was upside down. Maybe that’s what Hawk intended. In any case, Jen’s chin was up, eyes searching above her brows. She half expected to see her enemy.

As though she had come into view, the Hawk continued, “There she is. Ease off the stick. Come in behind her. Index finger...short burst, short burst.”

Jen’s finger flexed and she was surprised not to hear the boom boom boom of her guns.“Got her! She’s going to explode.”

And did in Jen’s imagination, into a black and orange fireball. She flew right through it, the explosion that was trying to kill her.

“Life is about survival,” the Hawk said matter-of-factly, “and you don’t survive unless you want you.”Jennifer realized her heart was beating wildly, and her breath was heaving. The thrill was unlike anything she had experienced. There was a tremble in her body. Her hand was shaking.

The Hawk must have felt her through the controls. “Okay, it’s my airplane. I’ll get us home. You sit back and enjoy the scenery.”

Jen pulled her feet back from the pedals, let go the stick and rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs.“Way to go,” Hawk said soothingly, “that loop pulled over 4 gees.”

They were much lower now, taking a pass past the Flatirons. Low enough for Jen to pick out hikers at the base of the giant slabs of rock tilted up and jutting into the sky.

The Flatirons met and flowed out into the plains of East Boulder.

The University of Colorado was a splash of red stone brick and tile roofs. The horse shoe stadium was empty with a bright green rectangle manicured within.

Jen found it strange to recognize a golf course from the air. And soon the power plant on the Boulder reservoir came into view.

There was the airport and the farmhouses she had driven by to get there.

Their final approach took them over the soccer fields on the North edge of town, just the other side of the diagonal that led Northeast up to Longmont.

Jen sensed the expert hands at the controls as she felt they came in hot, faster than normal. They flew over the diagonal, pulled up to make it over the stand of trees and then down on the far side to just above the North end of the lake that edged the beginning of the runway.

It reminded Jen of the way the movie The Thomas Crown Affair started, when Steve McQueen made a similarly dramatic landing.

The rumble of the wheel on grass was evidence they had landed, but Jen’s spirit was still soaring in the sky.

Out of plane, feet on the ground, Hawk didn’t speak as he helped her out of her parachute. He set the chute in her vacant seat, stepped back and gave her a sharp, brief salute, and then another handshake.

The handshake took it back to where her adventure seemed to begin, in their first handshake. The grip was the same, only familiar now, and somehow like the control stick she had just relinquished.

She knew. She felt, she could walk away without a word, without another gesture, but she gave into her instinct and jumped up into his arms and buried her face in his neck. He held her there, feet above the ground.

She pulled her face back so she could whisper in his her, “Thank you.” Kissed his cheek.

He lowered her down, let her go. Smiled. “My pleasure, way to fly.”

Jen gave him one last beaming smile of appreciation. She turned looking for Tosh, but she, and her car, were nowhere to be seen. Only a taxi with a driver leaning against the front passenger door, back door open.

Jen looked back at Hawk, a question on her face. He gestured with his hand at the taxi. “That’s your ride. It’s taken care of.” As Jen soaked in what he was saying, he continued, “That’s quite a friend you’ve got.”

Moved, Jen could only agree. “Yea, yea she is.”

With that James Dean looping swoop of her hand she gestured goodbye, turned, entered the taxi. The driver shut the door, walked around to the other side. As the taxi pulled away the Hawk gave a rising banking gesture with the palm of his hand.

The sun was shining bright. It was one of those perfect days in Boulder. The temperature was soothing. The breeze mild and magical. The clouds were ornaments hanging in the sky. The air was clean, filtered by the forests as it cascaded across the Rockies and down the foothills to one of the oldest cemeteries in Boulder, the Green Mountain Cemetery. Tucked behind NIST, the National Institute for Standards and Technology, if you hadn’t been in Boulder for a long time you might not even know it was there. You had to go West on Baseline to 20th, turn South to find access. If you hadn’t been a part of Boulder for forever you wouldn’t even have a chance of getting a plot there. So the fact that James Leigh was about to be put to rest there was its own silent testament of Boulder taking home one of its own.

There were easily a hundred mourners loosely gathered around the site. There were a couple limos. The cars that lined the grassy curbs had license plates from everywhere, and more than a few had the little emblems on their bumpers indicating rental cars from the airport.

There was a canopied section over chairs to protect from rain and sun. There would be no rain but some had their own umbrellas to shade the sun.

Dee sat in a chair, in a black dress that fit her once upon a time, with a pill box hat that had a veil attached to it. Her fingers from both hands held a tissue to her eyes. She was quiet but crying steadily.

Fanny and Paul were there sharing an umbrella. Each wore dress-up, with a little more color than a traditional funeral would bear.

Jennifer stood off to the side, Honey and Tosh at her sides. All three were dressed in black. Honey in a pants suit, her golden mane pulled back into a chignon. Tosh in a below the knee full skirt with a matching blouse. She wore a wide loose brimmed hat and large black rimmed sunglasses. And Jennifer wore a sheer sleeved jacket over a black silk blouse and matching skirt that hugged her hips almost down to the knee. The simple onyx band on her head held her hair back from her ears, and then down across her back like a nun’s veil.

Looking through her RayBan’s Jennifer could see the family in the front row. Parents, a grandfather, what looked like a sister and her family. A man sat next to the grandfather, comfortable in his presence, but somber in his demeanor. His suit was a hand in glove fit, and he wore it like his life was spent in suits, so much so he seemed to come from someplace less casual than Boulder, New York, or Geneva maybe. The way he looked out to the West, beyond the Flatirons, you could tell his thoughts were filled with the past, of times long gone spent with a friend he had now come to bid farewell.

Tosh reached down and squeezed Jen’s hand. “Are you doing okay?” Her smile of concern matched the tone in her voice. Honey’s attention was with her, as well.

Jen squeezed back and then let go. “I’m fine. It’s such a beautiful day. He would have liked this.”

“Look at all these people!” Honey whispered. “He must have grown up here. I’ve never been to a funeral with this many people.”

Brenda had been sitting in the group under the canopy. She stood, moved to the front of the congregation, pulled out a little sheet of paper she glanced at, and then took a deep breath.

Those nearby hushed their conversations, and those on the fringes gathered closer to be able to hear.

“James Mason Leigh was a good man.” It didn’t come out very well or very clearly the first time, so after another focused inhale, Brenda started over.

“James Mason Leigh was a good man. I’ve known him since we were both kids tubing down Boulder Creek. We went to Boulder High, CU and then off into the world of movement and Pilates. He was my best friend.” Her voice cracked, and she paused before going on.

“James loved this town. He loved his life in this town. He loved all of you who have come here today.” Brenda gestured in a wide circle, first in one direction with one arm, then in the other direction with the other arm.

Jennifer folded her arms across her chest and rocked ever so slightly forward and back. Her breath came shallow and she worked to keep it even.

“James also loved Pilates. Over the last few years he spent all of his energies supporting the University of Pilates, from its initial inception through to its existence today.”

“His retreat from the forefront over the last couple years has only made the University stronger. In the process he made each of us stronger, to stand on our own, to not only help but to lead the way.”

“He always lived his life, and talked about his life, in retrospect. So in many ways, today he got his wish.” Many smiles emerged, some chuckles of confirmation rumbled.

Mandy, from Glenwood Springs was sitting in the audience. Her tears were unrestrained, Tosh observed, and remembered how she had wondered if there had been something between she and James.

“A gathering like this is for the living. We gather to acknowledge a loved one who has gone before us. We gather like this to bolster our strength to go on. Life will be emptier without James among us, but life will surely go on with James within us. He was a gift, he remains a gift. And with his blessing, and in his spirit, we shall go on.” Brenda nodded agreement with herself. She might have had more to say, no doubt did, but recognizing a good ending, left it at that. She nodded again, looked down, looked at the casket she stood before. Her hand reached out for one last touch, and then she walked away, through the crowd and towards the mountains.

Other stuff happened. People came by, exchanged small talk. Honey and Tosh did most of the talking, never straying far from Jen’s side.

Slowly people drifted away. James’ family rode away in a limo. Friends hugged and waved goodbye.

Soon it was just some woman seated in the back row, the well dressed man standing close to the casket, and Jen flanked by her two friends. They stood in silence till Tosh leaned in and whispered, “We’ll wait for you back at the car. You take as long as you want.” Tosh gave her a soft squeeze at the shoulder and then moved away.

Honey rubbed the back of her fingers up and down the side of Jen’s arm, took in a deep breath and followed Tosh.

Jen just stood there, arms by her sides, fingers laced in front of her. She looked at the casket, she looked at the sky, she saw a bird flying by. Part of her wished she were the bird, able to get up and fly away.

Then she saw the well-dressed man place both of his palms on the casket. She saw his head lower down between his arms. “One last communion,” she thought. And then moments later, he pressed himself to standing, his arms falling to his sides.

He looked out at the Flatirons, down at the casket, turned and walked away.

He was headed past Jennifer. As he looked at her he stopped to face her, removed his sunglasses to reveal deep blue penetrating eyes. As a statement of fact rather than as a question, he said, “You must be Jennifer.”

Jen made no acknowledgement, continuing to look straight ahead from behind the protection of her RayBan’s.

“James and I were pretty good friends. He was like a brother to me.”

Jen needed distance from this intrusion into her privacy. She kept things shallow and found herself wondering how much his haircut must have cost.

“James was always a private guy, and the last couple years he was more and more the hermit. He seemed impatient for this very day,” the man half laughed, then continued, “until just recently.”

The man looked over his shoulder, thinking of his friend, turned back to face Jen. “Something happened in his life that made him want more, look forward to more. Someone I should say.”

At that Jen’s head turned to look into his eyes.

“You. He spoke of you. Wanting more of life with you.”

Jen looked away, put her palms on her hips, ran her fingers down her bottom. “I lose the men I love.”

The man nodded ever so slightly to acknowledge hearing what she said. He put his glasses back on and looked out past her shoulder. “Well, I thought you should know. I think James would have wanted you to know.” He looked back at Jen, felt he had said what he wanted to say, and stepped aside. He walked back to a waiting limo, disappeared inside and the limo glided away.

As Jen stood there she tried to melt into the moment. Not willing for it to end. Not willing to let go. The sun was warm without being hot. The air was cool and fresh. Alive was alive. And dead was dead. And time goes on.

Jen turned and marched back to Tosh and Honey waiting by the car. Her march made her think of marching up the sand and away from another man, away from losing the other man. She felt hollow and angry. She had sworn she would never again feel like this and here she was, destroyed again.

Without a word she got in the back seat. Tosh was driving, Honey rode shotgun. As they pulled away Jen saw the lady who had been sitting in back now standing near the coffin. Jealousy passed and sadness rushed in when Jen realized the woman was an employee of the cemetery on guard till the deed was done.

Jennifer hadn’t slept well. Restless, formless dreams kept her from the deep sleep she was used to. So she got up, picked up her mat that was rolled up in the corner and headed out to the deck to begin her routine Pilates workout.

The Trials were getting close and she was looking forward to their arrival.

It was still dark outside but there were no stars. Clouds were heavy and close to the ground. You could smell rain in the air. And the temperature had fallen from the peaks of summer, so she wore sweats and a T-shirt, while she worked out.

She pressed her flow as usual, her breathing billows leading the way though her movement. But her mind couldn’t quite surrender to the moment, to the listening that was necessary for the complete coordination of body, mind and spirit.

When the rain started ever so lightly it proved more distraction than she could handle, so she broke off her routine, something she rarely did, rolled up her mat, went inside, returned it to the corner, and went into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

Dawn was taking darkness into greys when the rain got more serious. It was the kind of rain that wasn’t quick to come and leave. Not like the other night she thought, as she smiled to herself at the memories of an over the top experience. The rain just gradually grew to a light consistent thumping.

Jen poured her granola into a bowl, spooned out vanilla yogurt on top, mixed it in, and began munching away. The orange juice tasted good and as she sipped she decided to turn on the TV to see how long the weather was to last.

She had tuned into a traffic accident report. Must have been late at night because the scene was mostly illuminated by the half dozen police cars pointed in on the accident. The location seemed familiar and as she looked closer she realized it was just down the hill at Broadway and Table Mesa. She recognized the T-bone collision where one car passing through the intersection had been hit broadside by the other.

Fire truck hoses were still on the ground, firemen seen cleaning up what had obviously been a horrific scene.

As the camera scanned the charred wreckage something in the vehicle that had been struck, struck her stomach hollow. The world seemed to shrink away from her, like she was falling down a well and could only hear things tinny and from a distance.

The news anchor’s voice was flat and emotionless. “Both men died in the fiery crash. The driver, 22 year old Billy Martin, who struck the other car, had been reported as leaving a local bar after having a fight with his girlfriend. Killed in the other vehicle was 33 year old James Leigh, a teacher at the University of Pilates.

Jennifer dropped the glass of orange juice she had forgotten she was holding. Motionless she sat, staring at the television. The anchor had nonchalantly moved on to the next story. Jen didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Her hand frozen in the air. The plastic juice glass tumbled to the floor, but she never heard it.

Suddenly she pushed herself from the table. She ran through the house, out over the back porch and up into the mountains through the trees, through the rain that had gained strength since she had last noticed it.

The pine needles were wet beneath her bare feet. A clap of thunder made her run faster. She was trying to get away, to run away from what she heard, to run away from a past that ran after her. The rain was coming down now, and her past caught up with her, like a mountain lion jumping on her back, the weight she was carrying slowed her run to a stumble and then buckled her knees. Her arms hung loose by her sides. Jen tilted her head back to face the dark gray sky, the rain and her tears only flooded faster down her face.

She went limp, fell to her side and down into a ditch. She curled up into a little ball, arms wrapped around her legs. Lightening and thunder struck as one. Her sobs matched the driving torrent of rain. Quick sheets fell with hollow moments of silence. Jennifer wept in the ditch. Her spasms came like the whip of a horse's tail then gave way to the complete surrender of sobbing.

Her arms wrapped tighter around her legs. She shuddered as her fetal position lost ground against rising water. The ditch was grassy and slick from all the rain. If she stayed unaware of her surroundings the rising tide threatened to sweep her down the ravine.

Her sobbing gave way to gasping for air. Instinct pressing inhale for survival. Inhaling led to sensing the current tugging at her. Without thought, her arms reached to higher ground. Her body unfolded and she pressed with her legs. And slowly at first and then with more desperate need, she crawled out of the ditch and lay panting on its ridge free from danger.